The Passing of Percy's Panda Pillow Pet
by TrueDemigodishness
Summary: A one-shot to remember Percy's travel companion, may he rest in peace, lost to Octavian's stuffing issue. Warning: "character" death.


**The Passing of Percy's Panda Pillow Pet**

**(or ****The Final Thoughts of Percy's Panda Pillow Pet, Who Will Live On in Our Memory****)**

**A Tribute to the Helpless Victims Who Have Fallen Under Octavian's Knife**

**No Laughing. This Is Serious.**

**Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the Percy Jackson and the Olympians/Heroes of Olympus series by Rick Riordan, their characters, settings, events, etc. (That's depressing.) If I did, Percy's Panda Pillow Pet would rise again and lead a teddy bear revolt against Octavian.**

**Innocent Teddy Bear Bystander: "I volunteer as tribute!"**

**Ok, enough of that!**

I was safe.

I was safe and warm, and I couldn't be happier.

I knew I was safe because I was in the company of a very good friend whom I trusted with my life.

My companion was a tall, dark-haired boy, with swirling sea-green eyes that, though tired, sparked with mischief. He had rescued me quite some time ago from my previous life, and had taken me with him on his journey toward a safe haven. He treated me with the utmost respect and care—never as if I were beneath him—which I valued as the true rarity it was. He was kind and gentle with me, though fierce in his many battles with our pursuers. Others may have looked down on him because he was rough and dirty and a little wild, his clothing little more than tattered and faded rags, his hair long and shaggy; but I saw these things as the marks of a hard-pressed warrior, cunning and relentless, strong and brave as I could never be.

He carried me, on his back, for the long, arduous trek to safety, setting me down only on the rare occasions we paused to rest. He cared for me when I was helpless to do so myself. _This_, I told myself, _is a good man . . . and a true friend._

We had finally reached a place that I had gathered was to be our haven, and our new home. I had a sense of impending doom—an odd twinge deep inside me—that warned me my end was near and fast approaching, but I ignored it; my companion was near, and I trusted implicitly that he would never allow harm to befall me. I wish now that I had paused then to remember something about my companion: he was entirely too trusting. He was a nice guy, and that was going to be the death of him, or rather, _me_ (though I am convinced it will some day lead to his death as well). After the exchange of a few words between my dear friend and those people in charge of this place (a scary dark-haired girl specifically), I blithely allowed myself to be carried further inside their settlement and up a fairly steep hill.

When we reached the large, ominous temple at the crest of the hill, and I saw the crazed figure inside, my panic crescendoed dramatically inside me 'til I could no longer push it to the side. I gazed in horror at the bodies of my people—my _family_—as they littered the floor in haphazard piles, their stuffing strewn grotesquely over the room and spilling disgustingly from some sort of altar. Their murderer stood in front of this altar, back toward us, knife raised and gleaming wickedly in the light, and as we entered, before my very eyes, he plunged that horrible knife down, deep into the body of yet another hapless victim, tearing into it mercilessly. I choked back a horrified sob as he turned, eyes glittering maniacally, and tossed the mangled corpse carelessly to one side. His gaze lingered on me as he turned to speak to my companion, sending a harsh chill to my very core.

Before I could form a protest, I felt myself swung roughly into the air by the madman, and carried to that vile altar decorated with the scattered remains of my predecessors. My companion cried out, but I soon realized, as did he, that it was to no avail, he could do nothing. My wonderful companion was as helpless as I in this terrible situation, and I am quite sure he was flooded with sorrow, kind soul that he is. _Goodbye, my brave, strong friend. And thank you._ In a daze, I felt the knife, but without pain; the world slowed and my mind sank into a dull fog.

Here I lie, now, dying, on a pile of shredded teddy bears. I am sorrowful, yes, for a life cut short in its prime, but I feel both privileged and pleased to have had the honor of knowing such a dear friend and such a noble heart. It is because of him that I can now pass away with peace in my heart and mind, my life fulfilled.

Farewell, dearest friend, do not blame yourself for my tragedy.

Blame the psychopath that did it.

**Let us take a moment of silence.**

**I hope you enjoyed it!**


End file.
